Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Autumn have come down from the North, blown by a cool stiff wind. They are by far the most magnificent clouds I have ever seen – the sunlight is diffused thru them in a thousand variations some of the blinding dazzling white, others are pale mysterious lights – whole sections of the sky are massed over with great dark piles of cloud – they must be several miles in height and between thin vast sides are great holes or inverted canyons thru which a gray light comes fading in infinite variations as it nears the cloud bases—
It is agonizing to look at them—

Aug 26, 1930

The hot white drought wind comes out of the brassy south west sky, scorching the earth with its breath, like a blast of air from a cake-oven. The small saplings shrivel, and stand gaunt with curled dry white leaves; the foliage of longer trees turns a sickly brown – grass is little and dry affording scant forage for the hundreds of grass-hoppers and locusts that zig-zag thru the maze of